


No Skin Off My Back

by Rhys (rhyssj)



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: Docking, Foreskin Play, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-05
Updated: 2004-05-05
Packaged: 2019-04-20 08:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14256993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhyssj/pseuds/Rhys
Summary: Joey really loves Chris's dick.





	No Skin Off My Back

**Author's Note:**

> A _100 Ways_ story.

"Whoa, Chris. That’s one funky looking dick," Justin says the first time he’s in the position to see it, which is pretty soon after they all get together. Maybe two weeks, Chris figures, between rounding the group off with Jason and moving into the house Lou got for them. And after that, there’s no shame, just three guys in a tiny space with two more on the edges. 

Chris smirks, stepping out of the shower to let Justin in. Five minutes under the stream, nothing more and never less, and the impatient little fucker’s been perched on the john waiting for the last three. Chris vigorously rubs the towel between his legs. "What? Never seen an uncut guy before?" 

"I dunno. Maybe," Justin admits, squinting a little, "looks a bit familiar, I guess." 

"Bullshit," Chris says, smiling. 

Justin pulls back the curtain and gets into the stall. "Whatever. It’s still funky looking, man." Justin pokes his head around the plastic. "And hey, a little privacy, will ya?" 

"Fuck off," Chris sing-songs, flipping up his middle finger. 

Justin starts to sing, loudly and obnoxiously, and Chris lets him because he’s shaving and razors against his throat generally make him nervous. There’s slippery crap all over the tile floor that no one will cop to but feels like JC’s gel. Chris thought sharing a bathroom with two guys (and sometimes Joey and Jason, who still live with their parents, though Joey doesn’t seem to realise that) would be a piece of cake after sisters, but it turns out guys are slobby motherfuckers. 

"Hey," Joey says, sticking his head into the bathroom, "you about done, Justin?" 

"Nope. I still got, like, three minutes." 

"Try again, Math Genius. You got, like, thirty seconds," Chris says, wiping the shaving cream off his face with one of JC’s many towels. He turns around, and there’s Joey, naked, trying to squeeze by him and get to the shower. It’s like a frat house, Chris thinks. It’s all vaguely gay. 

"You don’t even live here," Justin says as Joey pulls back the curtain and offers him a towel. There’s a brief but monumental battle of wills then Justin sighs dramatically. "Okay, fine, but I’m not doing it because you, like, forced me. I’m doing it cuz I’m scared of Chris’s dick." 

"What can I say? I’m all natural, baby," Chris says, spreading his arms and grinning. 

Joey eyes flick down, the same quick whip of a look that Justin spared him earlier, but this is different. Joey’s mouth pulls into a line as his eyes darken, as his back straightens. For a second there, Chris actually thinks he’s being cruised, but then Joey’s face lightens, and he grins. 

"What? That little thing giving you nightmares?" 

"Hey," Chris says, and shoves Joey into Justin. By the end of it, a puddle of water has seeped into the hallway, and the shower curtain’s been ripped from its hooks. The three of them are sitting on the cold tile, bare-assed and laughing as Lynn yells at them for making such a mess. 

~~~ 

It’s weird, Chris thinks, suddenly having these other guys living in his pockets. The couch is too small for Joey, so when he ends up crashing, it’s usually in Chris’s bed, and Chris lives in fear of the day Jason decides it’s easier to stay than to go and tries to fit himself in, too. 

They’re not quite strangers, because singing’s pretty intimate and Chris already feels like he’s known them forever, but it’s not like he really knows a lot about them. Little things, sure. JC uses too many styling products for not enough hair, and you gotta watch your food around Justin. Joey farts a hell of a lot, and Jason always leaves his damn shoes in the middle of the hall. 

But what’s really weird, Chris thinks, is that he’s the only one legal to buy booze. 

Lynn’s out of town until Monday, and Lou’s in New York until Tuesday, and Chris is just full of great ideas. First Nsync, which is such a fucking perfect name that it boggles Chris’s mind on a daily basis, and now this. Perfect time for bonding, Chris thinks, not feeling the slightest bit guilty that he actually promised Lynn he would babysit Justin, which Justin is _not_ to know about. 

"Okay. New rule: you fucks get no say in what I pick up," Chris says after listening to Joey and Jason debate import versus domestic beers (Joey, Chris is beginning to realise, has no concept whatsoever of money) and to JC try to talk Justin down from his first choice: tequila. 

"Don’t get him tequila," JC says, following Chris out of the house, barefoot and antsy. 

"Jeez. Chill, JC. I know the kid’s got no fucking idea what he’s asking for." 

"Oh, it’s not that. It’s just. Tequila makes him a little. Well, you know." 

"Sure," Chris says idly then adds in a heavy (and bad) Austrian accent: "I’ll be back." 

Chris checks his back pocket one last time for the stack of rumpled twenties the guys tossed in. He didn’t have a twenty on him, so Joey loaned him one, making Chris promise to pay him back "once we’re famous and rich and shit. Shouldn’t be long, huh?" Chris counts the days. 

He buys domestic beer for Jason (Coors), and import beer for Joey (Heineken), and cheap-ass vodka for JC, and tequila for Justin, because JC’s warnings have piqued his interest, and Chris is all for stockpiling blackmail material against Justin. The kid is just too much fun. 

~~~ 

Chris doesn’t actually buy anything for himself. He just decides to mooch off his new best friends, which turns out to be the perfect solution. Justin and JC are complete lushes. A few hours and way-too-much-to-drink later, Chris begins to realise what JC’s ominous "you know" meant about Justin and the tequila when Justin loudly asks, "have y’all seen Chris’s dick?" 

Jason and Joey start giggling as JC says, "you know, man, I don’t think I have, weeeird," and thoughtfully taps his finger against his chin. Justin, meanwhile, is still talking excitedly, "you should, JC! It’s, like, funky looking. That’s what I call it. Funky. It’s all. It’s _funky_." 

"Oh no! Are you diseased?" Jason asks between hiccups, spilling his beer over his fingers. It comes out as "dee-zeezed," which sets Joey off again, rolling on the floor and knocking over his own beer. Chris is pretty sure this is the last time he’ll be allowed to babysit. 

A smarter man would let it go, because Justin’s already gonna be puking all day tomorrow, and JC’s probably down for the count too, but, "fuck, no. My dick is fine. Fucking Timberlake over there is just jealous because no one every came after me with the dick-clipper." 

"Hey, man, I got a cousin who’s uncut," Jason says helpfully. "You guys should meet." 

"Oh, definitely, because we’re both suffering from the same terrible disease. Fuck off, yeah?" 

Chris says it a little too angrily, like he really cares what they think about his dick, but he’s drunk and being drunk has always made him a little sensitive and way too easy to piss off. He’s still simmering in his fury when JC leans over and asks very loudly, "hey, can I see it?" 

"Jesus," Chris mutters, but he’s already standing and unzipping his jeans. Maybe, if he’s lucky, one of them has third nipple he doesn’t know about, and that guy can be razed for a bit. He shoves his jeans and boxers down and puts his hands on his hips. "Take a picture if you gotta." 

"No, thank you," JC says quickly, frowning, "but man, that _is_ funky looking. J was right." 

"Told ya," Justin says smugly. He slaps JC on the shoulder, and JC slaps back, and then they’re in a tangled knot of girly slap-fighting, grunting and groaning, tumbling into Jason. Justin takes off with JC hot on his heels and Jason bringing up the rear, yelling about his spilled beer. 

"You’re not gonna join them?" Chris asks, hiking his pants and zipping them up. 

"Nah," Joey replies, and _shit_ , Chris thinks, _he’s looking at my dick again_. 

Chris swallows down the dry desert in his throat then reaches for Jason’s half-empty beer before it can spill another drop. Chris drops his shirt on the puddle, feeling strangely naked, then laughs. He had been a hell of a lot more naked thirty seconds ago and hadn’t much minded. 

When Chris looks up, lips around the mouth of the beer bottle, Joey’s still staring at him. 

Chris is just grateful his hard-on waits until _after_ to make its appearance. 

_Shit_ , Chris thinks again, and takes another swig of Jason’s warm beer. 

~~~ 

Chris is no chickenshit, so he asks JC flat out, "hey, is Joey gay or something?" 

JC drops his toothbrush into the sink then scoops up the lost paste by dragging the bristles smoothly over the porcelain. With all his hair crap lining the basin, Chris isn’t sure JC should put it back in his mouth without washing it first, but he does. His cheek bulges out like a chipmunk’s. 

"Man, I don’t think so. Maybe he’s bi." JC looks thoughtful for a moment as he scrubs his teeth then spits out the foam. He uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. "But I don’t know for sure. I mean, we know each other, but we don’t _know_ -know each other, you know?" 

Chris picks at the frayed edge of his towel. "But if he was, you’d be cool with it?" 

"Oh, yeah." JC pauses. "Why? Wouldn’t you be?" 

"I’m bi," Chris says flatly. 

"Awesome, dude," JC replies, and slaps Chris on the back, grinning. 

~~~ 

Chris pushes Joey to the back of his mind for a while, because there are better things to worry about, and if Joey wants to stare at his cock then he’s welcome to it, whatever. Instead, Chris worries about how he’s gonna work ten hours a day then practice for eight hours more and not die, because by the end of three weeks living his dual life, he’s pretty close to the bitter end. 

The only consolation, Chris thinks, is that Joey isn’t much better. 

"You guys have to cut back on your hours at work," Jason says, like it’s so easy, and maybe it is for a guy whose parents paid for his car, and still buy his clothes, and give him an allowance. Chris isn’t that guy, and never has been. If Nsync goes to shit, Chris won’t follow. 

"I love my parents, dude, and I don’t wanna make them pay for all my shit," Joey says, kneading his hamstring. He smells like absolute shit, but Chris doesn’t want to say anything. Joey’s job isn’t glamourous, but he does it anyway, and Chris admires that sorta work ethic. 

"I need the money," Chris admits, shrugging. "You may have noticed I’m poor as shit." 

Jason looks vaguely uncomfortable, but Joey just grins and says, "guess I’m never getting that twenty back, huh?" 

"Not until I’m filthy rich," Chris replies wryly. Joey barks a laugh. 

~~~ 

Joey’s all right, Chris decides, and is relieved that he’s finally able to believe it. Joey starts bringing him bagged lunches for work, lovingly prepared by his mom. At first, Chris declines, because Chris doesn’t take handouts from anyone, but Joey just says, "dude, _c’mon_." 

The lunches are pretty good. Phyllis cuts out his daily horoscope and always tapes it to the juice box, underlining the interesting bits. At their evening rehearsals, Chris stops feeling like total shit after a few days, which is a nice change. He can keep up with the kid, anyway. 

"Gonna be a superstar, gonna be a superstar," Justin sings under his breath as he practices the dance moves, pausing briefly to do the robot. Chris grins around his water bottle, shaking his head. The kid is such a fucking freak. Chris adores the shit out of him already. "Hey, Chris?" 

Chris takes a big gulp of water. "Hm?" 

"Nothing," Justin says, "just thanks. For, you know, calling me and shit." 

"Justin," Lynn says sharply from across the room. Chris valiantly swallows his laugh. 

" _Stuff_! I meant stuff, all right? Sheesh. _Moms_ ," Justin adds and rolls his eyes. He plops down onto the mat beside Chris, plucking the water bottle right out of Chris’s hand, the little fucker. When he gives it back, it’s practically empty, and Justin’s grinning as big as his fat head. 

"Yeah, yeah, keep laughing, Timberlake." 

"I will," Justin says. 

Joey and Jason are standing behind JC, trying to follow his movements. Joey’s picking it up faster, but he keeps hamming it up and fucking up the routine, pissing JC off, which is kinda funny. JC’s the type of guy who’s hilarious when angry. Chris is gonna enjoy that a lot, he thinks. 

Jason isn’t getting it at all. It doesn’t even look like he’s trying. 

"What do you think about the other guys?" 

"I like ‘em," Justin says promptly. 

"No, really." 

Justin shrugs. "Joey’s cool. He took me to work with him. I don’t really know Jason, but he seems nice. JC is JC, right, but I knew I liked him already, so I can deal with it. And you," Justin snatches Chris’s bottle and drains the last of his water, "are pretty fucking cool ..." 

"Hey, thanks, kid," Chris says, touched, even as Justin keeps on talking. 

"... even if your dick is funky as shit!" 

"Justin Randall Timberlake!" Lynn shouts, and Chris laughs as loud as he can right in Justin’s ear as Justin grumbles bitterly. 

~~~ 

What Chris does next, he blames on being exhausted, and adrenaline-drunk, and a million other things that are in no way his fault. It’s easiest to blame the game of paper-rock-scissors gone awry, which he loses first round. It’s a complex five-person tournament, held in under a minute. In the end, JC gets the shower first, then Justin, Jason, Chris and, finally, Joey. 

"I never really liked hot water all that much anyway," Joey says with a nonchalant shrug. 

Jason goes over by three minutes, which usually wouldn’t piss Chris off, but he’s already out of his sweat-soaked rehearsal gear, sitting in only a flimsy towel. Lynn has already gone by, collecting clothing in a big wicker basket, her hand kept over her eyes at Justin’s meek request. 

Joey stands in the doorway, chewing at his nails, nibbling until they’re perfect. 

Chris is perched on the closed toilet seat, counting every second Jason steals from him. 

"Done," Jason finally says, dripping water all over the fucking floor. 

"About damn time," Chris mutters the second Jason’s out of earshot. 

"Amen," Joey mumbles, and he’s grinning. 

Chris turns on the water, bitter that it’s nothing better than lukewarm, then drops his towel. Joey has taken his place on the toilet, watching again. Always, with the fucking peep show. Chris doesn’t understand it. From what little Chris knows of him, Joey gets a ton of ass. 

It’s normal for a bit, all routine and shampoo, but Joey’s eyes are still on him. Chris feels himself getting hard then fights it with every ounce of his being. He’s not _that_ desperate, and it isn’t like Joey’s offering to suck his dick or anything, just staring like Chris’s cock does a trick. 

Chris smirks and thinks, _hey, Joey, it actually does_. That’s when he fucks up, and drops his hand to his half-erect cock, and pulls his foreskin back, the pink head of his dick popping out. Gently, Chris runs the edge of his thumb around the crown, washing it under the spray. _I do this all the time,_ Chris assures himself, and he does, just never when there’s someone _watching_ him. 

It’s _not_ a masturbation thing. It’s a _cleanliness_ thing. But funny how it all feels the same, the loose skin between his fingers, the fluid motion of his strokes. He pushes the skin as far forward as it’ll go then pinches it between his finger and his thumb, softly rubbing the sides. 

Joey makes a noise, low and primitive, in his throat, and then the spell is broken. Without looking at Joey, Chris flips off the tap and reaches down for his towel. It’s in Joey’s hand instead, held out like some fucked up offering. Chris knots the ragged old thing securely around his waist. 

"You turn," Chris says, and leaves the bathroom. 

~~~ 

There are two solutions as Chris sees it, one smart (which is to ignore everything) and the other, the solution Chris actually picks. Ignoring shit doesn’t work, that much Chris has learned in life, and the last thing Chris wants is to always be plagued by Joey’s voyeuristic tendencies. 

It’s another day of ten hours at work and nearly another ten practising. Chris wonders if they’re going to slow down when, if ever, Lou signs them. Probably not, Chris thinks. If he could, Chris would practice night and day, however long and hard it took, to get a record deal. 

Lou can get them that deal, if Chris can get them together as a group. 

He looks at the others, sees Joey screwing around, moving like a fool and trying to get Justin to mirror him, sees Jason standing back, that look of faint distaste always on his lips, sees JC and Justin dancing, trained like soldiers, the lone survivors of the Mickey Mouse boot camp. 

Chris only hopes he’s not alone in feeling like this. Sometimes, he sees the expression on Justin’s face and knows the kid is there with him. JC, too, when he forgets about the audience and goes apeshit on stage, performing. Jason and Joey, he still can’t really read at all, and liking Joey as a friend isn’t enough. Chris likes Jason too, even if, like Justin, he still hardly knows him. 

Which is all the vindication Chris needs for his fucked up plan. 

Two birds with one stone, and all that crap. 

~~~ 

Chris is already in bed, staring at the ceiling and counting the seconds until Joey pokes his head through the doorway and says, "hey, dude, you got room in there? That couch fucking sucks." Seven minutes, Chris thinks idly, and replies with a casual, "hey, sure, man. C’mon in." 

Joey climbs under the sheet and exhales sharply when his head settles on the pillow. "Man, that’s nice," he says, "thanks. I can’t sleep with my feet hanging off the end, you know?" 

"Not really," Chris admits. "Short guys don’t have that problem." 

Joey snorts, and shakes the mattress with his quiet laughter. 

"You wanna just do it?" Chris asks, flat out, like it’s no big deal. His heart is racing a million miles an hour, but he can’t tell if it’s a mistake yet. Probably is, but Chris never claimed he was smart. "I mean, you wanna just fuck and get it over with before, you know, _things_?" 

Joey’s breathing evens out, but he doesn’t say anything. 

"Before we’re emotionally invested, I mean," Chris adds, sounding more and more like a moron, but whatever. "Because, Joe, I gotta tell you. The way you’ve been looking at me. Call me a chickenshit, but I don’t want to spend the next ten years with you eyeing my dick like that." 

"Shit," Joey says after a period of awkward silence, "I didn’t think you’d noticed." 

"I know I don’t know much about you yet, but I’m thinking subtle isn’t your forte." 

"I’ve heard that before," Joey says, laughing. "Man, I’m sorry. I’d promise to stop, but. Your dick, it’s just." Joey takes a sharp breath, and it sends shivers down Chris’s spine. "Chris, I think you’re pretty fucking cool, but I’m not in love with you or anything. I just like your cock." 

This isn’t going like Chris imagined it would. "Uh, okay. Thanks." 

"I’m just saying, so it’s not weird or anything. Your dick just makes me really, well, _hard_." 

"Shit," Chris hisses, tossing his forearm over his eyes, "are we gonna fuck or not?" 

"I don’t know. I don’t want to fuck up the group or anything, you know? It’s just," Joey pauses and moves around on the bed, rolling into the centre and looking down at Chris’s face, "okay, here’s the deal: someday when I’m drunk, I’m gonna go after your dick. I know I am." 

"I’ll let you," Chris admits, because he knows himself too fucking well, too. 

"Then it’s better, like you said, to get it out of the way now, in case it all goes to shit." 

"Right," Chris says, "right, _exactly_." 

"Okay. Then we should just do it, like you said." 

"Right," Chris says again, but doesn’t move a muscle. 

~~~ 

Ten minutes later, and Chris casually says, "so. You been with many guys?" 

"Not many," Joey replies, "but enough to know I like dick as much as pussy." 

Chris huffs a little and can see Joey’s grin in the dim darkness of the room. Without thinking about it, Chris pushes down his boxers and tosses them across the room. Two heartbeats later, and Joey’s have followed the same path. It’s better, Chris tells himself, if this happens now. 

"Can I turn on the lamp?" Joey asks, "cuz half my thing is actually _seeing_ your dick." 

"Just keep it dim. It freaks me the fuck out when I see other people’s orgasm faces." 

"Freak," Joey mutters and then the room is covered in a soft, dusty light. The lines of Joey’s back are lean and tight, and his hair is wildly untamed, spiralling out in all directions. When Joey turns around, Chris’s drops his eyes to his hard dick. It’s only fair, Chris thinks. 

"This doesn’t fuck up the group," Chris says seriously, wetting his lips with his tongue. 

"Hey, buddy-fucking is my middle name. Well, that and Anthony," Joey replies, pulling the sheets clean off the bed then plopping down on Chris’s thighs. He grins widely. "So. Tell me what I gotta do here. I’ve never touched an uncut dick before, man. Any special instructions?" 

"I dunno. It’s just a dick," Chris says, propping himself up by the elbows. It’s weird, to watch Joey’s hand circle his cock then tighten. Chris gasps harshly, his toes curling helplessly and croaks, "just, _fuck_ , not that hard, okay? It requires less work, with the extra skin and all." 

"Oh, yeah?" Joey loosens his fist and starts moving it up and down, barely pulling the hood back and barely pushing it over. Chris sighs, and reaches down, folding his fingers around Joey’s hand. He shows Joey the rhythm and when Chris pulls away, Joey has the dance down pat. 

"That’s good," Chris says. "You cut guys always look like you’re going to rip it off or something. I worry for your dick, man, you have no idea." Chris smiles when Joey laughs then adds, "and play with the skin, if you want. It’s full of nerves and shit, so, you know, it’s good." 

Joey grins. "Aha! So there _are_ special instructions. You’re holding out on me, man." 

"Oh, please shut up," Chris mutters, the muscles in his shoulders bunching up, straining with the effort it takes to keep himself propped up and not flat on his back, writhing, like every inch of himself wants to. Joey’s hips rock slowly, his cock leaving damps trails on Chris’s knees. 

In the hall, Chris hears someone get up. Joey’s doesn’t pause, even though he should, but Chris holds his breath until the door slams. JC. He’s always waking Chris up by doing that. Chris doesn’t take another mouthful of air until the toilet flushes and JC’s bedroom door bangs again. 

"Pussy," Joey murmurs, a smile curving his lips. 

" _Fuck_ _off_ ," Chris replies, giddy with relief, completely fucking _stupid_ with pleasure. 

~~~ 

It takes a lot longer for the whole extra skin thing to get boring than Chris would have suspected. There’s no method to Joey’s madness, no rhythm kept long enough for Chris even to think about coming. It’s like cock-torture, having Joey’s fingers pulling and prodding at him. 

"You mind if I blow you?" Joey asks, finally, and Chris nods fervently. Joey smirks and pinches Chris’s nipple. "So does that mean you want me to or that you actually mind? Because, man, if you’re fucked up enough to say no to head, I’m not sure I want to be in a group with you." 

"Fuck off," Chris says, laughing. "I’m just warning you, though, I don’t taste that great." 

Joey wets his lips then grins. "Lemme be the judge of that, huh? Lift your knees, man." 

The rules of reciprocity are being broken, but Joey’s not complaining, and Joey doesn’t seem like the type of guy to deny himself anything, so he must be getting off on it, this must be what he needs. Chris can deal with getting the better end of the bargain, and the worse one, too. 

The blunt edges of Joey’s teeth scrap over the inner skin of his left thigh then follow the same path on the right. Chris sits back, his wobbly arms finally giving out. It was a noble effort. The back of his knees hook over the width of Joey’s shoulders, and Chris can feel his hot breath. 

Chris hates this part, the not-knowing if Joey’s gonna like going down on him or not. It’s the only time he’s a bit self-conscious about his dick. There have been girls and guys who haven’t liked it much, the taste of an uncut dick, and this is a guy Chris is gonna have to see every day. 

Joey’s hand circles his shaft, pulling the skin back, and Chris counts every second it takes for Joey to trace the head of his dick. His toes curl helplessly, brushing against Joey’s back, and Chris holds his breath as Joey takes him deeper then pulls back, falling into that familiar motion. 

Joey’s got the type of hair that’s ideal for pulling during head, but Chris just combs his fingers through it, his knuckles catching on the occasional knot. Joey sucks dick like it’s all he’s ever wanted to do in his whole life, never letting up for a second, using his hands when he tires. 

It’s hot inside Joey’s mouth. His tongue is doing incredible things to the head of Chris’s cock, fitting into the slit and tracing the arc then edging around the crown, wet and insanely sexy. When Joey moves his fist up, taking the skin with it, he mouths Chris’s foreskin between his lips, and Chris shakes apart, coming before he has a chance to warn him, to tell Joey to pull off. 

Joey slides on up, using their sweat to ease the way, and he puts his messy mouth against Chris’s lips. It seems only polite to open and let Joey’s tongue snake inside. They kiss for a long fucking time, and all the while, Joey’s hand is on Chris’s dick, playing with his skin again. 

"Freak," Chris mutters, and Joey swallows it with a smile, biting at Chris’s lower lip. 

~~~ 

"Joe?" Chris asks after a while, and Joey pulls back, flopping down on his side. 

"Hm?" 

"I probably should have asked this, like, first off, but. You’re clean, right?" 

"Yup," Joey says, his head propped up by one hand, arm bent at the elbow. "You?" 

Chris nods then sits up, palming Joey’s hip and pushing him onto his back. Chris settles between Joey’s knees then nudges him until he sits up, his shoulders against the wall. "I’ve never actually tried this," Chris murmurs, finally getting his hand on Joey’s cock, "but it should work." 

"Okay," Joey says slowly, "you wanna tell me what it is, or are you just gonna show me?" 

"You ever hear of docking?" Chris asks, running his fingers over the underside of Joey’s dick. Each time Chris gets to the head and rubs the pads of his fingers over it, Joey twitches. Joey shakes his head slowly. "Had a guy beg me to do it once, and I wouldn’t. I didn’t know him." 

Joey grins. "But you know me?" 

"Beginning to wish I didn’t, smart ass," Chris replies wryly, squeezing Joey’s cock tight. 

Joey laughs, but scoots nearer when Chris puts a hand on Joey’s hip and pulls. They’re close enough to kiss, so they do, briefly. Joey’s eyes look almost black in the dim light. Chris bows his head, moving that last inch until his legs are hooked securely around Joey’s hips. 

Chris holds Joey’s cock with one hand and his own with the other. He’s only halfway hard, and that’ll help him pull this off, if it can even be done at all. His foreskin isn’t tight like some guys’s, but there isn’t so much that his dick looks like a shrivelled raisin when he’s soft. 

Chris pushes the skin forward until there’s an inch of overhang. It looks more like a fig, and Chris laughs lightly, his forehead bumping Joey’s stubbly chin. Joey makes an inquiring noise, but Chris shakes his head. He pulls his fist back then touches the heads of their cocks, holding them there, cradled in the curve of his hand. Carefully, he pushes the skin forward, and it slides easily over the pink head of Joey’s dick, enveloping Joey inside him, letting him feel it. 

"Shit," Joey whispers, and his mouth glides over Chris’s neck as his head comes to rest on Chris’s shoulder. "Shit, it feels so. Fuck, _fuck_ , Chris, fuck." Joey’s knee press into Chris’s ribs, just below his armpits, and Chris doesn’t let go, just holds him there. "Shit, man, _fuck_." 

"You want me to stop?" Chris asks, feeling Joey’s fingernails dig into his lower back. 

"No, no," Joey breathes, eyes closed, his lashes like shadows on his cheeks, "don’t stop." 

Gently, Chris begins to move his hand, the one curled around their joined cocks. It’s minuscule, the movement, but every shift heightens Joey’s wet breath, makes him shiver and moan, like Chris is killing him or something, like Joey’s never felt anything like this before. 

_Chris_ has never felt anything like this before. 

Joey’s fingers scrape their dance over Chris’s back, and his mouth murmurs nonsense against Chris’s neck. Chris keeps his hand going, long after his wrist starts to ache, until Joey pushes at his shoulder and says, "dude, I’m gonna," and comes all over Chris’s belly the moment he’s free. Just comes and comes, with his knee rubbing like crickets’s legs under Chris’s arms. 

They lie there for a long time, unspeaking, then Chris leans over Joey and turns off the light. 

They both have to work tomorrow. 

~~~ 

"Shit!" 

Chris jerks up, his heart climbing into his throat as Joey shoots out of bed, all long legs and naked white ass. Joey pauses midway through his clothes dig, briefs pulled halfway up his legs. He always keeps extra clothes in the corner of Chris’s room, just in case he needs them. 

"Look at the time!" Joey says excitedly, "we’re gonna be late!" 

Chris is out of bed like lightning and into the shower before the water has a chance to warm up, scrubbing soap over his belly. He’s pretty sure going to work with Joey’s come all over him is a little _tacky_. Over the roar of the spray, Chris can hear Joey stumbling around. 

Chris streaks back across the hall and looks for his jeans, pulling them on then shucking them off against, angrily mumbling at himself about underwear. He can only find two socks on the floor, one green and one black. He puts them on anyway then grabs his wrinkled red tee-shirt. 

Joey is furiously brushing his teeth in the bathroom as Chris ducks around him to reach the hair gel. Chris combs a copious amount through his hair, opening his mouth so Joey can shove Chris’s toothbrush in, already covered with paste. Thirty seconds, and he’s minty fresh. 

Lynn is at the counter, sipping coffee and reading the Sentinel, and says, "boys, aren’t you going to eat?" as they race past her. Chris skids to a stop and grabs the loaf of white bread on the counter. As an afterthought, he also nabs the cling wrap just in case Joey wants lunch, too. 

The car is running, and Chris tumbles into the front seat, peeling out of the driveway before he’s even shut his door. His car is a piece of junk, so they don’t go very fast at all, but they make it there with eleven minutes to spare. Chris shoves a slice of bread into his mouth. 

"I totally smell like I was up all night fucking," Joey says idly, sniffing at his armpits. 

"You were," Chris replies, chewing. He is ravenously hungry. 

Joey grins. "Hey, good point. Thanks for that, by the way. You’re a good guy, Chris." 

Chris snorts then offers Joey the bag of bread. "I’d say something cliche about this being the beginning of a beautiful friendship, but I’m not gonna. Just stop staring at my cock, okay?" 

"I’ll try, but I’m not promising anything. It’s a mighty fine looking dick, dude." 

"Whatever, you big deal-breaker," Chris says, rolling his eyes, "no skin off my back." 

"No fucking kidding," Joey replies. "It’s all on your dick!" 

It is, Chris thinks, head thrown back and laughing, the beginning of a beautiful friendship.


End file.
